


Peddled

by yeaka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:20:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22380202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Hank and Gavin stakeout an auction.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 3
Kudos: 88





	Peddled

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Thus far, the auction’s proved a total bust. As in, they won’t be busting it. Despite all their best intel, their perp’s nowhere to be found, which means they’ve sat through two hours of mind-numbing rambling for nothing. The auctioneer is an android, its voice shrill and noticeably mechanical, not at all nice on the ears, and almost everything that’s been auctioned off has either been a full on Traci or just android parts, neither of which interest Hank at all. The department gave them _a little_ bit to spend, just enough to catch their collar’s attention. They can fill in whatever else they want with their own pocket. But Hank doesn’t _want_ anything on the docket. It’s the only thing he and Reed have in common. The only reason they’ve neared the end of the night without strangling each other is that they’re a united front on that one subject—how much they hate androids.

Which is why it’s so shocking when the auctioneer brings out the last item, and Reed’s hand shoots up. Hank catches the movement in his peripherals, and then he does a double take just to make sure he’s not hallucinating. Sure, the android they’ve paraded out is cute, maybe a little more so than all the others, but it’s still _an android_ —it’s blue LED spins steadily as the auctioneer circles around it, pointing out all its special features. It has a smattering of little freckles and moles: a _unique_ design. It’s a prototype with unusual programming. It’ll stick anything in its mouth without balking. A blond woman in the far corner raises her hand, countering Reed’s offer.

The auctioneer corrects to, “That’s two-hundred, can I get two-hundred-fifty? Anyone for two-hundred-fifty? This state-of-the-art RK800 is fully equipped with working genitals—two-hundred-fifty from the young gentleman in the back—three hundred? Three hundred?”

The blonde woman offers three hundred. Reed bumps it again. Hank elbows him in the side and hisses, “What’re you doing?”

Reed shoots Hank a scowl like he has no business asking that, when Reed was the one muttering just five minutes ago about how much he hates robotic blank stares. Reed grunts, “I don’t want this to be for nothin’, alright?” He returns his gaze to the stage, raising his hand to up the bid again, and adds, “’Sides, it looks like a decent fleshlight. Might as well get something out of this shit night.”

The auctioneer looks back at the blonde, but she shakes her head, dropping out. The android’s eyes sweep over the dark, crowded room, but no one else jumps in, even though the man on stage is a gorgeous creature crisply dressed in a tailor-made grey suit, approachable and striking all at once. While the auctioneer talks, the android pulls a silver coin out of its pocket and begins to show off a trick between its quick fingers. Hank doesn’t see what that has to do with anything, but a greedy grin stretches Reed’s face, as though he knows _exactly_ what to do with those skilled hands. 

“Six-hundred. Only six-hundred? For this special prototype with heightened senses and increased dexterity? Going once, going twice—”

In a surge of irrational spite, brought on by an awful night with an awful person, Hank shoots his hand up. The auctioneer trills, “Six-hundred-fifty from the older gentleman at the back!”

Hank’s nose scrunches up at the description—his age shouldn’t be his most defining feature. Reed’s head snaps around, eyes wide with betrayal. The android on stage tilts his face towards Hank, and maybe Hank’s imagining it, but it looks like his lips have quirked into the faintest hint of a smile. 

Hank has no use for an android, a happy one or otherwise. But he’ll be damned if he leaves the place empty handed with Reed feeling great. He’s sure he’s got more money than Reed does. He drives an old car, eats cheap food—his only real expense is beer. Reed grits his teeth together and counters, but Hank’s beyond done with the evening and shouts, “One grand!”

Reed leans over to hiss, “You fucking—”

“One thousand and sold, to the older gentleman in the back! That’s it for this lot, but we’ll be having a sale come Sunday at—” Hank tunes out, watching instead as the android obediently files off stage, disappearing behind the curtain. One grand is a hell of a lot to waste on spite, but it’s still cheap for an android, even a refurbished one like most of the auctioned ones are. And it’s worth every penny for the seething look Reed gives him. As the auctioneer finishes its speech, the lights come up again. The room is filled with chatter, excited buyers and disappointed losers. Hank still scans every person that squeezes by to reach the exit, even though he knows the perp never showed. Maybe next week. The worst part is they’ll have to try again.

They filter into the lobby behind the crowd, Reed bristling with palpable anger. It’s way too late—three in the morning—and the only thing that really sustains Hank through that is Reed’s annoyance. He’s so busy enjoying it that he even forgets what he bought, at least until a redheaded android intercepts him on his way to the door. It brings with it the android Hank bid on. It offers him a tablet without a word, open for his handprint, and there’s a split second where Hank could back out and keep his money.

But the android’s standing right there, pretty brown eyes staring into Hank, dark hair neatly brushed back but with just a few strands disheveled across his pale forehead. He beautiful, and despite Hank’s own misgivings, he can’t seem to see the android’s eyes as _empty_.

Besides, if he doesn’t sign for it, Reed’ll take it, and even an android doesn’t deserve that fate. So Hank shoves his hand on the tablet and lets it scan him, completing the purchase.

It beeps when it’s done. The employee chirps, “Thank you. No refunds.” Then it just leaves. Just like that, it turns and walks away. There are dozens of other workers circulating the crowd, passing out their fellow machines like candy. The RK800 Hank bought blinks at him. 

The RK800 offers his hand and greets over the rumble of the crowd, “Hello. My name is Connor. I’m an android created by CyberLife.”

“Stupid name anyway,” Reed grits out, which only makes Hank more inclined to like the android. Maybe he wouldn’t if Reed wasn’t around, but Reed is around, so Hank indulges in the handshake. 

“Hank Anderson. And let’s get one thing straight before we go anywhere; I don’t have any need for a Traci.”

“That’s fortunate, as I’m not a Traci.”

Reed snorts. Hank grunts, “You’re not?” He’s fairly certain that every single person in the auction house bought their android or cheap parts just to jerk off into. 

But Connor says, “My originally programming is for detective work.”

Hank frowns at him. Reed swears, “For fuck’s sake...” For a split second, he looks like he’s going to punch Hank’s new android in the face, but instead he reels back and marches out, shoving through the other guests on his way to the parking lot. 

Hank nods after him and mumbles, “Let’s go.”

He turns towards the doors. Before he takes another step, Connor lays a soft hand on his shoulder. Connor smoothly tells him, “Thank you for your purchase, Hank. Unlike your partner, I think you and I will get along well.”

Reed’s not his partner. Connor’s not supposed to be either. But Hank numbly nods again and mutters, “Yeah.” He leads the way outside, Connor on his heels like a new puppy, somehow just as cute as Sumo in a very different way. Maybe he’ll be worth it after all.


End file.
